Hope had No Tears
by Monkeystarz
Summary: I have no name. To the German Nazi's I'm a number. Less then a dog. Lord knows I look like one. But here I learned the most important lessons in life. 1. Love 2. Loss. 3. Hope has no tears.Based on WW2. Re-Wrote. Do NOT Read if you don't want too.:
1. Hope

_**A/N: After I type the first 3 or so chapters to this story I swear my other stories will be updated or at least most of them! Well This story is inspired after the book **__**"Night**__**" and the movie "It's a Beautiful day" Both made me cry. I am strongly against racism so this was a movement towards that. Some of the things in this story are true and happened to others. I honestly swear I have researched up a lot these facts through the help of my trusty computer and the lord of all research books! Nooooooooooooooooooow on with the story! But first...**_

_**Update: Ok so I'm going to fix the typos and add some more to the story today, hopefully at least, im going to try to fix all the typos in this chapter. Yes, im subjecting myself to more hate by updating this and putting it back up but hey.. people have their opinions. BUT PLEASE, WHILE I KNOW THIS MAY OFFEND, WHICH IS EXTREMLY UN-INTENTIONAL, PLEASE **__**PLEASE**_ _**BE A LITTLE KIND IN THE PROCESS OF FLAMING. LIKE MAYBE NOT HOPING THAT I GO TO HELL? Thank you. Augustt806.**_

**Summary: Hermione Granger: 16 is a Jewish girl in Holland. Her mother and Father were stolen from her home while she was out and loaded onto a train to Auschwitz, a German concentration camp. While they are gone Hermione is being looked after by her best friend Harry Potter. Almost 4 months after the departure of her parents the rest of the Jewish Community, including herself, are split up between 4 different concentration camps. There, Hermione meets her second love... a certain soldier... Draco Malfoy...  
**  
_**Disclaimer: I own my toothbrush and my stuffed animals... but unfortunately not these characters (**_

**Chapter 1 of Hope had No Tears: Hope**

Crowded, that's all that could be said. Flesh to flesh, bone to bone, and sweat to sweat. Children, men, and women all clustered together, faces solemn and grave knowing the upcoming terror that awaited them. I clung close to my friend, his features displaying the haunting despair of a fate that he too, could not escape. His eyes soaked in the last bit of outside life as the train passed by odd landscapes. I closed my eyes willing myself to wake from this horrid new reality.

Minutes later I opened them slowly, meeting those of a small child. She had dark almost black eyes and her long dark hair was parted in two plaits that rested on her shoulders and trailed down her back. She hugged to her poorly dressed body a small dirty looking doll. I wondered momentarily if the child had dressed herself, for the cloth itself was matching no better than a fish does to the sky. I glanced at what I was assuming to be her parents, and quickly deducted that her poorly matched outfit was not done so by her own will.

The little girls lip quivered slightly as she clung tighter to the doll, the ragged toy must had been the only thing left of home to her.

She noticed my stare and met my gaze with a small, sweet, but sad smile. My eyes brimmed with hot tears, and as I could not hold her gaze any longer, I turned my back to her. My eyes met the only tie I had to home, and grasped his arm tightly. Sobs shook my body and as a result his shoulder soon became salty-wet. He patted my back trying, in vain, to stop my useless waterworks.

"Hermione", his voice spoke softly, "Hermione now is not the time for fear. Cry your eyes until you go blind, but it does nothing to help. Though, if it consoles you to do so, then by all means cry a river. But Hermione, look at me, I need your strength as you need mine." He stared down at me with his brotherly gaze. I wiped my eyes and nodded bravely, taking a shuddering breath. I vowed then never to cry again, for him alone I would stand brave.

"Harry, you won't leave me will you? You won't leave me with those soldiers? I will protect you to the best of my abilities. Now all I ask, is will you protect me as well?" I knew I asked a dangerous question. If he did not answer I would understand, but the silence would be unbearable. But if he did answer, and it was a yes, then we would both be condemned to death. He, I, or both of us would die. We'd heard the rumors. These camps were run by the devils themselves. I knew it. He knew it. Every damned human of Jewish faith in the area knew it.

I didn't dare look at his face; my eyes were intent on what little scenery I could see between the cracked wooden boards. He squeezed my shoulder and said reassuringly:

"I will not desert you."

My heart squeezed. Harry, I loved him so! He was not my real brother but our souls were of siblings. He had always been my protector, my eyes, and my ears he was my everything. At one point my love for him was less brotherly, but looking back on it now, I was young. Once, I remember fondly he had beat up two other boys because of a silly doll they had stolen from me. I would of laughed out loud at the memory had we not been on my way to the metaphoric gallows.

I looked up gratefully into those emerald orbs, were there any other eyes such as his in this world? They were so perfect and warm. No, his eyes were the seventh wonder of the world.

My mind turned back to its surroundings. I gazed around quickly catching a glimpse of the little girl whom still had her dark eyes on me. I returned her long ago smile and she spoke softly to me, "You have lovely brown eyes, miss" her accent was heavy and I noticed she was polish. I blushed slightly at her compliment and nodded to her doll.

"Does she have a name?"

The train jerked as it started to slow down. My heart broke as at the same time my stomach lurched. The little girl didn't answer my question. She was looking through the gaps in our boxcar cell. I followed her example and saw that we were slowly arriving at our destination, slowly but not slow enough. Harry gripped my hand, trembling. Surprisingly I myself was neither trembling nor quivering. I wasn't a brave person so this was quite a novelty.

The train suddenly came to a halting stop, jerking all its contents around, including its human passengers. I heard soldiers barking out orders in German, faintly I heard Harry asking me what they were saying.

"I'm not listening." I hadn't wanted to know what the enemy was shouting.

My eyes darted all over the cart landing on each pale and scared face. Would I ever see these people again? One man around my age was tall and had an amazing head of red hair. I forced myself to remember each face, just in case I saw them in the future, if indeed a future did await us. I bit my lip as my nose wrinkled in disgust. A foul smell reached my unfortunate nostrils and I wondered faintly what it was, but sub-consciously I knew the answer would not be pleasant.

The cart shook as the sliding door was thrust open. I looked warily at the soldier and was surprised to see that he was quite handsome. Grey/silver eyes accented his features and a full head of light blonde hair sat under a German-Nazi hat. He gave us rules, which only I could understand and soon after he left we all started to file out. The crowded cart slowly emptied. Fear that I had been hiding suddenly surfaced and I couldn't get my feet to budge. Harry gave me a small shove and a sympathetic look as he passed me to get out first. He jumped down and turned to me lightly lifting me out of the cart. He set me down gently alongside the other prisoners.

I saw in front of me four lines of hundreds, maybe even thousands, of defenseless souls.

One line was made up of all men and headed to the left. The other consisted of only women and led to the right. The third had only small children the oldest seemed to be 14, they were faced forward towards the nearest building. I saw in their dirty little faces a fear of being separated from their parents and families. The last line was a mix of old men and woman along with the sickly. Were they going to the hospital wing? No. Why would the Germans waste their time on saving any of the sick?

My mind whirled with countless questions and theories.

I glanced back at the little girl as Harry pushed me forward. Quickly, as if on impulse, she dashed up to me and grasped my hand, squeezing it softly. She stared up at me with her glowing depths; shall I ever forget such eyes even beyond my grave? The doll was snugly situated under her free arm. Her small faint and scared voice echoed the answer to my previous question.

"Hope." The dolls name.

**A/N: Finite Chapter One. Re-edited**


	2. Tears

**A/N: Chapter Two****  
**  
**Summery: Hermione Granger: 16 is a Jewish girl in Holland. Her mother and Father were stolen from her home while she was out and loaded onto a train to Auschwitz, a German concentration camp. While they are gone Hermione is being looked after by her best friend Harry Potter. Almost 4 months after the departure of her parents the rest of the Jewish Community, including herself, are split up between 4 different concentration camps. There, Hermione meets her second love... a certain soldier... Draco Malfoy...**  
**Chapter 2 of Hope had No Tears: Tears**

I grasped Harry's hand praying that I would not have to let go. As we neared the lines unto where we would be divided he looked at me with a look I'll never forget in my life and beyond. Worry contorted his perfect features and I didn't even have to guess why, we had to separate.

He bit his lip and looked over at the lines once more his face suddenly set into a look of pure determination.

The lady in front of us turned to the right and walked, as in a funeral march, to the growing line that I was destined to join. Destiny... Destiny... who was the controller of such things? God. God controlled our destiny. If he did then why wasn't he here!? Why wasn't he saving all of us and if not all, then why not save at least the children? They had their whole lives ahead of them. Why should they end here, entrapped in the hands of these German devils? I was angry with God. How could he be so cruel? How could he take the lives he created and end them so suddenly without a proper reason or excuse? These souls he was destroying were the ones that devotedly served him!

A soldier shoved me towards the right line and I turned to Harry in despair. He mouthed the words "I promised" and was shoved toward his line. He walked slowly, and deliberately, as if waiting for a precise moment. My heart broke with each slow step he took.

"Hurry along!" a soldiers voice rang in my ear, I didn't move. He grunted and shoved me roughly. I fell to the ground my knees scraping the hard concrete and gravel mix below me. The skin on my hands and my knees broke and began to bleed profusely. I stared at the blood. Then I looked up and saw movement in the direction Harry had been which was followed by angry shouts and gunshots.

My eyes widened as I saw a figure I knew too well crumble "HARRY!" my voice quavered as I screamed. He was not but a few feet from me so I lunged to his side in a matter of mille-seconds, his body was not yet completely limp, yet. His eyes, in which laid my whole world, bore into my own, glistening with a combination of pain, sadness, and love.

"Herm-Hermione.." his voice whispered into my ear. My eyes clouded. He was dying. Harry was dying. MY Harry was dying. 'NO! NOOO!' My mind silently echoed a tormented cry. My heartache was too emotional to be voiced. Never would I release such an emotion-filled scream into this empty place.

"Hermione...love...Herm...you..." he was fading quickly. I looked at his body and saw the two bullet holes. One went through his leg and the other through the vicinity of his chest. The pain he must be feeling made my heart tug. If only I could relieve him of his pain. Let him rest in peace. That's all I wished for at the moment.

Closing my eyes I leaned my head in towards his ear and whispered, "It is ok Harry, sleep now. You kept your promise"

Soldiers were heading our direction. They were going to take him from me. No, that wasn't right, death was taking Harry from me. Those soldeirs were only going to take his last precious moments of life.

"Hermione...love...re-remember...hope...love.."

Hope. There was no hope for him. He was lost to the greedy hands of death and no matter how much I hoped and prayed I couldn't bargain that for his soul. "Harry...brother" I was cut off.

"NO!" he croaked, "Not brother... Hermione... understand...my love?" My heart pace quickened. Not brother? But he said he loved me. Realization dawned on me and I lost myself in his half-empty emeralds, a small smile on his face as I nodded in understanding about to say aloud what I felt when what little light had been left in his eyes quickly went out.

The soldiers jerked him out of my arms at the exact same moment; they took his body and dragged it away. They dragged my beloved Harry's body. I was tossed like a doll back in line, my hands and knees still bleeding. On my clothes remained the blood of my first love, my lost love, my Harry. If I ever loved again, would it be the same? I found myself asking. Memories flashed by me. Memories of him...

FLASHBACK

_A little boy sat regally on top of a rock. His messed up hair was even messier as it was tasseled by the wind. He had mud all over his face and clothes, accompanied by a lop-sided grin. In his hand laid the weapon of his choice, which would soon launch a war. It rushed into the air perfectly spinning and splattering right on top of a certain bushy brown haired girl who had been diligently reading a rather large and small printed book._

_His laughter filled the air as she sprang to her feet in despair and surprise._

"_HARRY POTTER I WILL KILL YOU!" The girl charged at the 'innocent' looking boy and knocked the boy off his throne, both falling into an even larger puddle of goo._

_Laughter ensued the small children's games...  
_  
END FLASHBACK!

Her eyes focused back on his body as she saw it being tossed over a tall fence, the same fence that opened to where the children were headed. That's Strange, I thought. Why make the children see a dead body? I shook my head not wanting to know the answer.

I remembered what he had said. He loved me? Closing my eyes I saw that it was true. How had I missed the loving glances? Even on the train the hurt look that had crossed his face that he had skillfully hid, but not soon enough, when I had called him brother. How could I be so naïve? How hadn't I noticed? I knew my mistake would haunt me for the rest of my life.

He was dead. His emerald eyes would never show my reflection again. A small bit of hope entered my head then, or perhaps they will hold my reflection forever? He had seen me; I was the last thing his glorious eyes had seen. How long will those eyes haunt me? I couldn't stand the thought. An image of him holding me in his arms while the Nazis came entered my head. He had acted so intimate while I had been immature.

I lifted my head up to the skies hoping to possibly catch a glimpse of an angel. Instead I saw stormy and unrelenting clouds. He was on his way up to heaven. Once he reached there I knew the sun would shine, if just for a short time. Perhaps, for once, the sun might shine emerald green?

I moved forward in line. Harry was gone.

A bleak future awaited me, one that I couldn't even fathom. As I inched closer and closer to the lines of destination, thoughts of the past haunted me, and fears of the future consumed me.

Even with that knowledge, one thing that I did not do was what Harry had asked me not to. I didn't cry.

Nothing I did would bring Harry back. Not even tears.

A/N: Finite Chapter Two


	3. Hell

**A/N Yay! I love you guy's sooooooo much for reviewing! Im glad you like it! **

**Summery: Hermione Granger: 16 is a Jewish girl in Holland. Her mother and Father were stolen from her home while she was out and loaded onto a train to Auschwitz, a German concentration camp. While they are gone Hermione is being looked after by her best friend Harry Potter. Almost 4 months after the departure of her parents the rest of the Jewish Community, including herself, are split up between 4 different concentration camps. There, Hermione meets her second love... a certain soldier... Draco Malfoy...  
**  
**Disclaimer: o.o can I buy Harry potter? If so I have about 2 quarters... so.. yeah... O.o I don't own it.. Unfortunately...o.o  
**  
**Chapter 3 of Hope had No Tears: Hell**

The lines went through gates that led to giant military vehicles. We were then loaded in to them, packed together more tightly then we were in the train.**  
**  
In the truck two women held my hand. They spoke in soft and smooth voices about their old lives. The other women wrapped around us were in to their own doubts m and they ignored me. I was thankful to them all.

We were headed to hell. Again, my mind wandered to my past. I pondered again and again why I dwelled on the past, and then came to the answer. The past held my happiness. While the future held- -no, the future couldn't hold anything. I look to the past because of my awareness of what's to come. Nothing good can come of where we were going. Millions of others and I were void of a future. I sat in despair, wallowing in self-pity. Then I looked around at the pale scared faces all slammed together and I came to a certain realization. Harry died for me. So I was going to live for him, him more than me. Live past this present into a future and find love again, get married and have a son named after him. I was to tell the tale of the Jews. I was going to live.

My face set in determination. I gave a glittering smile to the elderly woman and slowly withdrew my hand. The car was coming to a stop and I looked out the back, which was open save for two curtains of mangy material. We were here; to my horror I read the sign above the main gates it read 'Auschwitz'. They herded us out of the vehicle like lost cattle, barking orders left and right. Many among us, besides me, spoke little German and I tried to help translate. We were put into more lines. Lines, lines, and lines! Was there nothing to do in this camp other than wait in lines?

The first line stripped us of our clothing. Many were embarrassed and crossed their arms over their chests, me being among those many. So we all stood stark naked, shivering in the cold waiting in another line. I longed for my warm home, but knew it would only make me miserable to be there alone and thinking of all those who I've lost.

In the next line doctors scoured over every single part of our body, searching for bacteria which would lead to disease, or so I had thought. I squirmed under the scrutinizing male eyes, when I passed through they nodded, and I hoped it was a good sign. Also, in this line we were given a combination of letters and numbers in substitute of our names. They stripped us of our birthrights, the bloody heathens. I must admit I was now waiting for a soldier to whistle me over like a common dog, for in their eyes we were no more then that.

The next line supplied us with clothes, light flimsy clothing. Holes were in some and bugs in others. I chose a ratty old thing, but it was bug free, now fully dressed I came back upon my lost confidence.

Half of the soldiers were men and the other half woman. The females were worst then the men. We were ushered into another building with more lines. It was hot in here. The heat was all right to some of us lightly dressed but it soon became unbearable. We were brought forward to tables where chairs sat across from men with needles and knives. Screams and cries were heard all over the place. I was far back so I couldn't tell what was actually going on. As I moved closer my eyes widened in horror as I saw that they were digging the knives into our flesh. Blood was all over the table in layers. Not only was that very unsanitary, it was downright gruesome! The girl in front of me sat down and I had to deal with watching her squirm and cry in pain as the heated tools broke her skin.

When it was my turn I sat down gazing at him with unwavering eyes. I refused to let this traitor win. Even if it were a useless battle with little importance, I wouldn't let him win.

"You are?" his gruff and heavily accented voice asked in German.

"Hermione Granger." I answered simply in pure disgust.

"No.", surprisingly I noticed, my German was better than his and I wasn't even brought up here. "You have no name, your number?"

"I have a name. Hermione Granger, as I mentioned before in this..." I looked him up in down again in disgust. "Riveting conversation.. I was told a number, if that's perhaps what you want? It is? Well then, C-6543789, such a long troublesome number. Names are much easier."

His face turned red and he barked "Hold your tongue, woman!" I thought he might strike me but I neither budged nor squirmed. I simply stared at him. Apparently my vocabulary was too vast for one of such status.

He began to dig the needle/knife into my flesh. He pushed hard and I noticed that he applied much more pressure then was needed. The needle/knife went deep and hurt bad, but I hid my feelings well. I stared up at the roof and didn't even flinch. He pushed harder and harder making me bleed more and more. I watched my steady flow of blood fall to the table and mix with the others from past tortures. I wondered if they were still alive today.

Soon it was over and I fell into another line that assigned us to cabins and bunks. Of course it was two or three to a single bunk.

I lay in a bunk with a girl around my age. We didn't talk; most were too tired to speak. She wasn't in line with us so she most likely was brought here before me.

The only sounds in my cabin were muffled cries of sadness and pain. I closed my eyes trying to block them out. Emerald eyes invaded my vision, staring into my being, my soul, and my feelings. Slowly the emerald turned into silver and I gasped. How dare that German Nazi's eyes intrude my perfect dream! They were nice eyes, almost as lovely as Harry's, almost. Why was that soldiers eyes in my dream or perhaps was it a nightmare? Were these eyes harmful or helpful? No. They were the eyes of the sworn enemy; they could only bring pain. I slowly drifted into a troubled sleep haunted by swirls of emerald, silver, nameless faces, blood, and soldiers. When would this torture end?

I awoke troubled and crawled out of the bunk and slid to my knees. I repeated the traditional kaddish ((A/N Kaddish- Prayer for the dead)), and blew a kiss to the sky. I then went back to my earlier position on the bunk. The girl beside me was awake and staring at me.

"Do you miss him?" her sweet voice whispered softly.

I nodded my head. "Yes, very much."

"Was he your lover?"

"He would have been."

"Such a terrible way to die, don't you think?"

"Rather honorable to me, actually, but terrible all the same."

"Yes, I suppose it was brave, and how he died in your arms was very romantic. I cried when it happened. I heard rumors from the gate. You didn't,though, cry I mean. Why not?"

I suddenly noticed that this girl was younger then I, by most likely a year. She had bright blue eyes and lush red hair. She was pretty. Not to mention very tall. "He didn't like tears. Besides, why waste needed water?"

"That's very wise I suppose." Her voice suddenly went curious. "What train did you arrive on, the one from Holland?"

I nodded my head wondering why she had such a sudden urge to change the subject. "Actually I did. Why?"

She smiled big making her already pretty face seem angelic. "Did you see a boy who looked a bit like me? Oh please say you did! I fear if you did he's here, but that also means he is not dead. Well... yet." I looked her features over and a red head from the cart jumped into my head. "Yes, actually, a boy with red hair and freckles was on the train he was tall as well..."

Her eyes shined and she smiled again. "That's him" She choked up and I held her hand reassuringly.

"I'm Ginny Weasly. Your Hermione Granger, correct? The girl next to me was talking about how you stood up to that soldier when you were getting tattooed. That was very brave and stupid at the same time. If you do that stuff you get noticed. That's something you do not want here, recognition."

"Thanks for the advice."

Ginny nodded then yawned. "Get some rest, and have sweet dreams. You never know when they can be your last." I said nothing and a few minutes later I heard the steady breathing and knew she had fallen asleep.

I forced myself to try and fall asleep, but terror and fear kept me awake. I remembered Harry's last words of advice. Hope. _Hope_ my ass. Hope was doing nothing to save us, and it never would! Hope sounds like a damn name. "_It is a name_". The voice in my head whispered. I suddenly had a vision of a little ragged doll, Hope.

I closed my eyes, wandering to the farthest thoughts I could find, a time of happiness and joy. That's what I needed, memories that would give me happiness and joy, if just for a moment.

**A/N:Finite Chapter 3**


	4. Flower Petals

**Summary: Hermione Granger: 16 is a Jewish girl in Holland. Her mother and Father were stolen from her home while she was out and loaded onto a train to Auschwitz, a German concentration camp. While they are gone Hermione is being looked after by her best friend Harry Potter. Almost 4 months after the departure of her parents the rest of the Jewish Community, including herself, are split up between 4 different concentration camps. There, Hermione meets her second love... a certain soldier... Draco Malfoy...**

**Hope Had no Tears Chapter 4: Flower Petals**

The next day they took our hair. Our glory. Making us all feel less and less like a human and more and more like scum.

They took the entire fleet of female 'dogs', as they so quaintly addressed us, over the age of 50 out of the cabins. I'll never forget such a smell as burning flesh. The odor is hard to explain. The smoke was red. Tainted with the blood it survived on, flowing through our bones and very souls. Damn that smoke. Some began to vomit as the tainted smell twisted through their nostrils. The smoke had an eerie feeling as it consumed the camp. Many stared overcome with emotions, and too shocked to act upon any of them.

Now that we had move to breath and sometimes-even shift in our bed, more 'mutts' were sent in to take up the needed space. Ginny's mother happened to be one of them. She was a lovely but slightly plump woman. You could tell she was rapidly losing weight, but she smiled happily when she saw her daughter. She had a cherry disposition that brought light to all who met her! And for that I will always be grateful.

Two days later we were sent in to the so called 'fields', which was a combination of hard mud and rock. The difference between the two was that you could cut through the mud with the shovel, but not the rock. To move the rock you had to move it with no help from the shovel, no matter how heavy it was it had to be moved. When reaching for the damned rock a soldier would tend to stroll over and kick you into the hole, laughing at the sounds of your pain.

The food rations given to us were not fit for a mouse. The food wasn't brilliant either, but it gave us some nutritious value. It tasted like mud on sticks, but it was food.

Disease spread through the cabins like fire. Consuming all in its path as each day passed it was likely to hear of more deaths due to disease, then murder. But in my opinion it was all murder; the Nazis caused the disease in the first place by squeezing thousands of people into unsanitary conditions.

Through all this Ginny and I grew closer and closer, we became good friends. We kept each other's mind occupied, thinking of stories and happier times to share with each other. One of our favorite stories is of a girl named Shana. Shana was an African slave who fought for her life against a poacher. She had seen him shoot an endangered white elephant and he was scared that she might get him hung. So he chased after her and captured her. She is forced to endure intense torture but she stands it and smiles each morning. In the end she escapes, and goes back to her home.

That story inspired us to smile each morning, no matter how hard it was.

Our life in the field came to an abrupt end as winter neared. It was below freezing outside so they decided to place us in a room; hundreds of people were in their at once searching through the items of the dead.

Sadly, before we were moved out of the cold, Ginny's mother had been exposed to the disease and died a few hours later. Ginny was devastated, she spoke little during those days, and there was no smiling or good mornings. She seemed to mourn each night, and she cried silent tears.

While she was in her silent state I found myself clinging to old memories. While sorting through clothing and possessions of those who had been murdered, my mind would wander to my home. I would think of my father and mother and how much I missed them. I would wonder if they were still alive, which I doubted. I would be happy if they had died. Then they would not have to endure the torture the Nazis forced on us. Though there were no racks and other torture devices they did make us feel like slaves.

The memories of my family changed to memories of Harry. I missed him with all my heart and soul. Sometimes he visited me in my dreams. He would talk me in to a peaceful slumber and I'd wake up in a good mood. Even in death he watches over me. Ironic how big brotherly he is...

Sometimes I wonder if the love in my heart is sisterly, or different. But no matter what type of love it is I have decided to lock my love for him up in a secret place, in another world that I alone can visit. I don't want to love again.

What I want at the moment though is to keep these women around me. I want to make them smile again. Some of them are so sweet and dear. How could these men be so cruel? They're heartless zombies walking around posing as human beings. The devil should take them to hell.

That's where demons belong.

I began to bring my precious rations to the sick and elderly. They needed the food more then I and a key way to keep these women near me was to keep them healthy. Getting sick was a death sentence. Simple as that, if you can't work you can't live. A silly point of view if there ever was one, but that's how they saw it, according to them we should be like machines not stopping and always working, if we break they toss us aside and get a new one. I sometimes laugh at the thought. A Bitter laugh, but a laugh just the same.

I began to realize that some of the food was different. Some of it had more of a green tint to it, poison.

The bastards couldn't even kill their slaves correctly. Our bodies had adapted to the hardships, slowly but they had. Poison would make it a slow death, hardly painful, at least for the old. The young would die in agony. Pain in every step, but knowing if they stop the consequence would be the gas chambers.

One day as I shifted through the unending pile of items, I found something that harmed my already broken heart. Its appearance brought back the hard reality of my existence and how trivial it was.

The doll had been practically destroyed. It was missing an eye and its appearance was greatly mauled. Hope stared me in the face with one eye. My dry eyes should have watered at the memories of that little girl with those dark haunting eyes.

Now I knew she was dead, the proof here in my hands.

Of course I guessed that she was not among the living a long time ago, but her eyes still haunted me at times. My every being was in a complete uproar. How could they kill that little girl? How could they murder the very semblance of innocence?

She died, but Hope survived.

And there she was in my hands. I looked around quickly hoping no one was watching. To my relief all eyes were on another prisoner as she was rolling on the ground in tears, a nervous breakdown most likely. Not too surprising. I pitied her greatly but I had to return to my task.

I stuffed the doll in my shirt as quick as I could.

I had grown so skinny... And lost so much weight…my rib cage stuck out from me a mile long.

The doll fell through.

**A****/N Short yes but very informative.**

**R/R**


	5. Confusion

**A/n: So I've been doing more research and this is an excellent definition of what the holocaust was.**

The Holocaust defined

What does Webster's Dictionary define the Holocaust as?

**ho·lo·caust** 'hO-l&-"kost, 'hä- _also _-"käst_or_'ho-l&-kost _noun_  
**1 :** a sacrifice consumed by fire,  
**2 :** a thorough destruction especially by fire. (i.e. a nuclear holocaust)  
**3 a **_often cap._ the mass slaughter of European civilians and especially Jews by the Nazis during World War II -- usually used with _the_ **b** a mass slaughter of people; _especially_ genocide.

Flashback:

_The doll had been practically destroyed. It was missing an eye and its appearance was greatly mauled. Hope stared me in the face with one eye. My dry eyes should have watered at the memories of that little girl with those dark haunting eyes._

_Now I knew she was dead, the proof here in my hands._

_Of course I guessed that she was not among the living a long time ago, but her eyes still haunted me at times. My every being was in a complete uproar. How could they kill that little girl? How could they murder the very semblance of innocence?_

_She died, but Hope survived._

_And there she was in my hands. I looked around quickly hoping no one was watching. To my relief all eyes were on another prisoner as she was rolling on the ground in tears, a nervous breakdown most likely. Not too surprising. I pitied her greatly but I had to return to my task._

_I stuffed the doll in my shirt as quick as I could._

_I had grown so skinny... And lost so much weight.. my rib cage stuck out from me a mile long._

_The doll fell through._

I felt myself stand up, my legs shaking, my head spinning, and my eyes searching. Searching for what? Searching for an answer to a million questions? Searching for truth in these 'people' around me? Searching for a little girl who was long gone? Searching for a man who was gone as well?

I begin to spin, I think. Either I spun or the world was, and I remained still. I had to find it. I had to find what I was searching for, where was it? Where was it!?

I saw thin cracked lips, runny noses, lifeless faces, pale skin, ragged clothes, and slumped shoulders. I saw tears, famine, and hunger. I then saw hope, Hope with her one eye and yarn-less head. Her button nose and her blood stained skin.

In the dolls face I found the same thing as I saw in these woman around me.

The spinning continued and I felt my legs began to give, the sense of falling dully entered my mind before all went back, but I was too busy focusing on a single thing, a single pair of silver eyes.

I awoke in a jolt and raised my torso so swiftly dizziness hit me again. My eyes were unable to come into focus, but something gently touched my shoulders easing me back down.

A warm hand stroked my forehead, feeling for something, a temperature perhaps?

Following the hand was a damp cloth rested upon my forehead. My features must have pulled themselves into a puzzled expression on their own accord because a voice told me I was all right, and to stay down or I would never feel better.

Feel better from what?

I tried to find a smell or hear familiar sounds but none came. Was I in a hospital ward? No, there was no stench of death. Was I in the gas pits? No the thing I was lying on did not feel hard.

Where on earth was I?

Yet again, my expression defied me, and the stranger spoke, "You are in the Lodging cabins of the soldiers, specifically the Major's quarters."

I shot up once more, this time wincing as the pain in my head intensified, but I spoke anyway, "Why am I here? What has happened? Who are you?" my vision was slowly getting better and I slapped, what I thought and hoped, was a hand away from me.

"You have the reflexes of a cat. So I shall call you kitten and me-"

"My name is NOT kitten." Though my voice was weak I did make an effort to have it sound as forceful as I could.

"Then pray tell what is it then?"

Was that a contradiction, I wondered, or was this a trick question? I was known only as numbers in a soldier's eye but this one asked for my name…

"I have no name in you world."

"Then may I enter yours?"

Finally my vision came into view and my eyes widened; I stared up at a soldier with pale skin and sharp features, strikingly handsome, with golden locks of hair, and sterling silver eyes.

I had no answer to give. I continued to drink in his face with a mixture of hate and awe.

He seemed to be doing the same, but then looked away. "I'll take your silence as a no."

I said nothing, confirming his theory.

"Well I am Major Malfoy, overseer of this camp, and head of the women's department in all concentration camps."

Director of..? Oh dear Lord. What have I gotten myself into?

"You are the girl who held that foolish boy who ran out of lines, right?"

My eyes blazed with anger as I sharply swung my head in his direction once more. I began to say something but my head pained me so that I could not. I could not defend Harry in this weakened state.

"Of course it was something out of a romance novel. Him falling into your arms, him staring up at you with his blue eyes which were filled with love." His tone took on a sarcastic hilt.

"Green." I said quickly, "Harry's eyes are green."

"You mean were?"

I felt my heart sink further with each hurtful syllable, gulping I asked once more, "Why am I here?"

He seemed to understand the hurt in my voice and answered with a more refined, "You fainted."

"I realize that but why am I not in the hospital wing?"

"Can't you just accept that you are not and lay back down before you faint again?"

I could feel my body giving into his requests, but I remember saying no, as I fell asleep…

(Dracos pov.)

I watched her as she slept, little stubs stuck out of her shaven head, her eyes were closed and delicate eyelashes rested on poorly fed cheeks. I'd get her real food when she woke.

Upon bringing her in here I quickly deducted that she could not weigh anymore than 70 pounds. The skin on her body clung and stretched thinly over her bones and muscles.

I searched her face for any indication that she was not just like me, as our countries leader claimed. My searching's had been in vain, no matter how much I did, I found no evidence that she was the reason the world was horrible. Sure she did not have blonde hair, and sure her eyes weren't a light shade, but did that really matter?

I thought of my father and his prejudice towards her kind, speaking of the Jews as if they were a type of disease that would spread through Europe and ultimately cause its destruction.

I thought back to the radio reports and advertisements that claimed the Nazis to be a superior race that aimed to 'purify' the world. I looked back at the girl, she looked innocent. She didn't look like she was the reason to Germany's current economic depression.

Not that it mattered to his leaders, or his father. They were so brainwashed with Hitler's propaganda that no matter what evidence was put in their face, they wouldn't believe it.

I stood up slowly and walked to the door, she needed food when she awoke and I would have to sneak it quickly, before any other officers noticed. With one last look at her I was out the door and headed towards the kitchens

(Hermiones POV)

Slowly I opened my eyes to an empty room. Remembering where I was I sat up, slowly. The harsh throbbing in my stomach told me I needed food right now, but my mind drifted away from my hunger as I had trained myself to do.

The reason why I had fainted in the first place, played back through my head and a choked cry left my mouth. I left Hope in the buildings; I had been too skinny to sneak her out. The irony of the situation erupted a bitter chuckle from me.

I guess trying to give hope to others by giving them my food left nothing for me. I was too emaciated to hide her in my shirt. My shoulders shook, and my body felt like it was on fire.

Oh dear god, had I too come down with disease? Groaning I looked around the cabin once more, at least I'd die slightly comfortable, my eyes widened as I blushed in shame, what was I thinking? Did I deserve to die comfortable in a soldier's quarters, correction, in a major's quarters? While my fellow brethren were gassed, tortured, and starved to death? The guilt set in quick.

I had to get out.

I tugged the sheet down off of me and shakily brought my legs to the floor, I took a deep breath and stood up, using a side-table to steady myself, I gasped as a wave of nausea hit me, blanching I crumbled to my knees just as the door opened.

I didn't dare look up; I was too embarrassed and weak. Dammit! I couldn't even stand on my own feet!

I heard the soldier's footsteps walk heavily towards me, something rustled and I heard a package drop on the side-table that had previously served as a temporary crutch.

He stooped down and lifted my chin to where my head was level with his; I averted my eyes refusing to look at my so-called "Hero."

He spoke softly and soothing, my mind too consumed with a new novelty, I smelled food. Not any food, I smelled cheese and butter. He kept on speaking but I disregarded his voice as I searched the room, my mouth watering at the sight I found.

The package was a small basket that held a small wedge of cheese and a generous slice of bread smothered with butter. Butter! My heart skipped a beat, and next to that the warm aroma of a hot stew found its way to my nose and a deep sigh over took me.

I felt myself being lifted up like a doll and placed in a chair that was facing a small table that connected to a wall. I spun my head around wildly because the sudden change of direction had made me lose sight of the precious treasure. The soldier had picked it up and brought it to the table I was situated at.

He placed the bowl of hot stew in front of me along with a wooden spoon. I stared in awe. Shakily I lifted my hand and tried to grasp the spoon but each time I caught it up in my fingers it fell back to the table. I started to breathe heavy confused with the stupid instrument and finally I gave up. I lifted the bowl tilting it to my mouth, but right before a drop of the delicious brew found its way on to my tongue the bowl was rudely pulled away from me.

I glared at the soldier, was this a new type of torture? My heart beat wildly as the soldier said something else that I didn't understand, was he speaking Spanish or something? It didn't matter; he lifted my hand and put the spoon in it once more. He then made my fingers close around it and guided my hand to the bowl.

The spoon dipped in and found its way to my mouth and I almost cried in joy, almost.

The stew was rich with vegetables and small chunks of beef.

After another spoonful, with help from the soldier, I found my own strength and begin to feed myself. Within two minutes the stew was gone.

He pushed the butter-lathered brown bread at me and I bit into it hungrily. While I was eating the soldier must have stood up and retrieved a glass for soon a glass of watered down whiskey was set before me.

I gulped at it.

In the cabins we drank muddy water that sometimes had twigs in it, this alcohol mixed with water made me go numb with relief.

Last but not least the cheese was set before me. Another sigh left me as I stared at it and its glory.

"Thank you God." I said aloud.

In two minutes that was also gone.

I licked my fingers and a small smile found its way to my face, my stomach sat in happiness.

For the first time in months I was full.

I glanced up at the soldier and his silvery look made me shudder; another wave of guilt hit me. I had eaten food given to me by the enemy. Had it been poisoned? I gulped.

My eyes roamed over his face and for a small moment a thought found its way into my mind, there was not even a hint of malice there.

I squinted in confusion he was the enemy, was he not?

The look I found in his silver orbs must have mirrored my own. He was confused, just as confused as I was.

I opened my mouth to say something, when suddenly he jumped up and wrapped his arms around me lifting me up and throwing me under his bed, my weak body bruised easily as I slammed against the hard concrete.

His door flew open and I saw through the small area of light that two sets of boots entered.

"Soldiers" the one called Malfoy said calmly.

Silence ensued; I wasn't aware what was happening then the others spoke, in German.

"One of the dogs is missing, we have searched the cabin and sifted through bodies sir but we can't find her."

Malfoy said something in a whisper and the other two men said nothing for a few minutes.

"Shall we look again sir? Or should we just punish her cabin and send them to the chambers?"

I blanched. WHAT? The woman who I had strived so hard to help, my new found friends? Even Ginny!? I gasped softly.

"No, not yet, search once more and report back to me, and DO NOT tell anyone else that she is missing. Especially the other heads of camp, do we have an understanding gentlemen?"

"Yes sir" they both responded simultaneously.

I gulped for air, as I suddenly couldn't breathe. Was I going to be the cause of all these deaths?

My heart beat rapidly and Malfoy stooped down and reached a hand under his cot groping for me, I assumed.

I scooted back.

I had to escape from this man.

I had to save those innocent lives.

I had to save Ginny.

My Sanity depended on it.

**A/N: Finite Chapter.**


	6. Example

**A/N: Hopefully this chapter will be as good ******

**Chapter 6: Examples**

My back was firmly pressed against the wall as I squirmed as far as I could away from the pale outstretched hand that symbolized my unintentional betrayal.

I had to escape.

Plans and faces flew across my mind, as in a panic I began to formulate pieces of a sketchy plan. If I somehow convinced this soldier I was no different from the other "dogs" at camp, maybe in his disgust and rush to be rid of me, he'd only punish me, instead of my entire cabin. I closed my eyes tightly and prayed that this would work.

"Where are you?" His gruff voice asked.

I took a deep breath and slid closer to his roaming hand and let him grasp my forearm. My body was then jerked from under the cot, and gently tossed in a chair. He released me and said nothing.

I swallowed and somehow managed to bring my eyes up to his own, only to be shocked to see the puzzled expression displayed on his features. I had expected frustration or anger.

He took a step away as he spoke, "Sorry about that I did not intend to harm you…." His voice trailed off as a look of sheer hatred shone from my face.

How dare he apologize for such a minute harm? How dare he even try to ask forgiveness for something so small in comparison to what has been done to me and my people now and what he plans for my cabin-mates? Had I not been so weak I probably would have exerted some sort of physical abuse. The plan I had formulated in my head was the only reason as to why I had not spat at him.

I took a deep breath and attempted to set my features in to a calmer façade.

He cleared his throat and turned away from me sharply. "As to your earlier question, you are in my cabin because the hospital cabin has been over-run with disease, and seeing as you don't have a true ailment as it is, I did not want to risk another loss of…" he trailed off again, thinking. "Another loss of capable hands."

I nodded my head. Not because I understood, for I didn't. Had the Medical rooms not been over-run with the diseased since the beginning? But opening my mouth would not solve anything, so I chose to not answer. However my mind was flooded with questions.

Why had he hid me from his lower-rank soldiers?

He turned back around to face me with a completely composed and cool face, "Now that you have revived and been fed, I will find a way to return you to your cabin without causing a commotion."

I paused in my thoughts and managed to meet his eyes again.

"I won't have your cabin punished."

The evil embodiment in front of me seemed to grow less evil as the words he spoke pierced my consciousness.

"However, since you are not rattled with disease, I have concluded that you were simply starving yourself to death. And that is not acceptable."His voice had turned emotionless. He then walked to the other side of the cabin removing something from one of his drawers.

"And with your little episode, I wasted precious time in bringing you here, not to mention the loss of time and efficiency in the sorting room." With the object tightly in his grip he retraced his steps back to me. "So do not be surprised when I return you to your cabin with harsh words and less then empty threats."

The personality change was astounding, the once almost kind grey eyes now held nothing, an empty void that stared through me. My instant hatred revived, and any remorse I had previously thought about having disappeared entirely.

He took my arm, in what I assumed to be a rough manner and dragged me through the door and towards the cabins. We walked in silence, his stature was that of a mix of tolerance and disgust, or so it seemed. For some unknown reason my mind kept replaying the moment from earlier when I saw the lack of malice on his face, then his instant transformation from almost tolerable soldier to rough demanding major when he had addressed his men.

We reached my cabin and he abruptly tossed my body in front of him harshly.

The bone-sickening crunch echoed through the cabin as my body smashed against the un-forgiving ground. I did not move.

His voiced boomed throughout the yard calling the attention of everyone in my cabin and the surrounding ones to my broken form.

I didn't really feel anything, to be honest. My bruised and beaten body had somehow managed to go entirely numb.

"Listen, and listen well. This, scum, this mangled form has betrayed you."

Shock struck me dead, no. No he's not going to relay how I had been in the lapse of luxury for mere hours to these people I have come to known as my family. My head turned wildly searching for anyone I knew to have pity on me in my time of weakness. I found Ginny's. The numbness began to wear off.

"She had attempted to feign illness and hide from her duties."

The hand that had been squeezing my heart released instantly, a lie. A strange illusion of relief enveloped me as I broke the eye contact I had been keeping with Ginny to look at the Majors.

His face was emotionless.

He continued, "Her deception was ill hid and remember you this, anyone who tries to smirk their duties they have been assigned to will be brutally punished, and possibly put to death. " with that, he brandished the object he had been grasping and motioned for his soldiers to stand me up and turn me around.

Two men harshly grasped my upper arms and spun me around, my back to the major. It was then that I realized the object was a whip.

"And now your punishment."

The first strike was probably the worst, the stinging shook my body and I bit my tongue in order not to cry out. The next few seemed less painful, though their crack was loud enough to make the unwilling audience cringe in horror. The new liaisons on my back soothed slightly as the blood ran down them, my body's way of dealing with the pain. I tried to remove myself form my body. I threw my consciousness back in time pretending that the stinging whip was merely a stick that Harry was sticking me with as we played swords, the pooling blood merely the mud he had slung at me so long ago.

It took me a few second to realize when that the blows had diminished in pain and strength, though somehow the sound was no different. Then there was nothing.

The soldiers that had been restraining me dropped me instantly and I managed to get on my elbows shakily, glancing at the crowd, taking a glimpse at Ginny's tear streaked face. The sound of boots walking toward me made me look up. Major Malfoy stood before me, the whip hung in one hand.

"Next time, it will be your life-less body lying here." His voice said harshly. "Everyone back to your cabins, there will be no dinner served tonight. However water will still be supplied." He glanced at the soldiers nearby, "Half a cup per inmate."

The soldiers nodded and the prisoners were ushered back in to their cabins.

Major Malfoy bent down his lips next to my ear, "stand up."

I attempted to stand, failing miserably as my body crumbled back to the ground.

"Stand. Up."

I gathered my strength and stood. My stare raising to his face, but yet again I was surprised. For In that second that my eyes met his I saw an emotion in his eyes, disgust.

But it was not pointed at me. Before I could exam more thoroughly his face went blank once more and his tone was empty as he spoke, "return to you cabin."

And with a small bit of understanding, I did.

-----------Draco's POV--------

I held my composure well. I always have.

My mind ran through the ugly scene again, the peculiar Jewish girl whose skin I ripped open with each hit, no matter how gently I hit her. For all intents and purposes the first blow was the worst, and if I could wield the whip correctly the next ones would be softer, but seem just as strong to any on-looker.

I hated myself.

I hated the Jewish race, not because I thought them inferior or anything less than human. No, I thought them weak, and for that they should be pitied.

But most of all, I hated my father. I hated his senseless ramblings of a pure Germany, a genocide. I gripped the whip more firmly as I imagined he was in that girls place. I would have delighted in the trickling blood, had that been true.

Upon entering my cabin I placed the cursed weapon back in its drawer and took a seat across from my bed, imagining its earlier inhabitant.

Even in her mangled state she was beautiful. Not so much an astounding beauty, more of a natural one.

I knew I could have her. I knew I could make her my own, and no one would care. She'd be better taken care of for sure, but hated by her own.

I considered it; perhaps that situation would not be so bad? I stood up and walked over to the bed, falling in it and breathing deeply. Amongst the smell of sweat was a distinct odor of clean water. I imagined her in a spring with the water rushing over her bony form. The thought made me smirk.

However much I hated and pitied her Jewish comrades, I could not pity her. I could hate her for sure, a troublesome child who starved herself to death for what, an easier way to die? I was unsure of the reasons. However, I saw her strength.

I shook my head, this could not due. I was Major Malfoy. Heir to the Malfoy dynasty, and one of the highest ranking officers in the Nazi force, I could not think like this. No matter how much I hated my position, I loved my responsibility. I loved the power and sheer responsibility this position brought to me. I imagined the faces of my soldiers, their scared faces bringing another smirk to my face.

Yes, I might not support the ideas and theories of my fellow commanders, but I would not speak of that out loud.

"I will have her." I decided, and at that thought a small part of my soul cried out in denial. An echoing voice that told me no, this is not what I wanted. It pleaded with me begging me to reconsider, reminding me of the pain I felt when I realized what I had to do to return her to the cabin without raising suspicions.

And I, Draco Malfoy, did as I had been raised to do.

I ignored it.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed ******

**I dedicate this chapter to Excuse me Mr. Mister ******** thanks for hanging with me! **


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